Everyday life in a rickety old French farmhouse with two very lively Polish Lowland Sheepdogs.
A record of those little things too unimportant for a diary but too important to be forgotten.

Sunday, August 14, 2016

The lost passport.

The Old Farmer comes to the front gate. Sophie announces his arrival. He's upset. The Belgian lady sent off her passport to the Belorussian Embassy in Paris at the start of last week. Her visa should have been ready within four days. When nothing appeared a call was made. No passport arrived at the embassy. ChronoPost, the registered mail service, have managed to lose it.Much uncertainty as to whether to cancel the trip or delay it. Angus suggests that The Old Farmer go on ahead. We'll put the Belgian lady on a flight from Toulouse to Warsaw when ( and if ) things get sorted out.

The air routes all converging over The Rickety Old Farmhouse this morning. The sky a patchwork of contrails. A stream of silver specks from New York and LA en route to Zurich and Milan. There must be a dozen of them , one lined up after the other.

Lots of deer about. Bob is kept on his lead, which is a shame as he loves to run through the freshly cut wheat.

In fact it's not just deer. Small furry things rustle in the hedgerows. The occasional grunt hints at wild boar. Down here the cornflowers are a deeper unbleached blue than their sun blessed cousins up on the ridge.

The farmers have been using the waterfall as a cut through for their tractors. The quickest way from the valley to the fields on the other side. Bob has a leisurely drink then waltzes across the water. He doesn't even get his paws wet.

The Font and Sophie return from shopping and come to pick us up. Bob turns into a bundle of tail wagging joy. '' It's so good I found you ". His sister sniffs his muzzle, then satisfied he's not eaten anything lovely, ignores him.It's going to be hot in Scotland next week. The forecast makes the front page of the newspapers.

7 comments:

Hopefully the Belgian lady's passport will be found, and the Old Farmer's plans will materialise. My, what a suspicious diva Sophie is - the same thing happens here with our two girls. Given Sophie's tastes, we wonder what qualifies as something "lovely"?

Such a pleasure to go on these Walks with Bob. When you first moved into the ROF, you wrote about goingfor walks through a walnut grove with another PON. I often wonder whether those trees still exist orwhether they've gone the way of the hedgerows, etc. to make way for more profitable crops. If so, how sad.

The walnuts are still there. We've stopped going that route because a dozen local dogs have died from eating the skins that surround the shells. They fall to the ground and then rot in a way that produces toxins that are fatal. The local vet was inundated with cases and had to get an expert in from Lyons. Another sign of climate change.

About Me

2004, we sell the rain drenched farm in Scotland and move to the warmth of southern Europe. Two very lively Polish Lowland Sheepdog brothers - Wilf and Digby - accompany us. Fluffy,patient and comical . Forever attracting laughter and new friends . After a year in Provence we moved to Italy to restore an ancient Roman watchtower . Somethings are meant not to be. Following a rather unpleasantly violent 'housejacking' ( the third in our little village ) we left Italy in late 2009 for new adventures in the rolling countryside of south west France . We are now getting to grips with a large rickety old farmhouse. Life after the violence of Italy has a gentler tempo. Digby passed on from piroplasmosis in May 2010. HIs brother, despite being diagnosed with cancer and having become blind ,soldiered on for another two years. We now embark on the next part of our journey with two new PON's - Bob and Sophie. This blog records all those little things about living with dogs that are too unimportant to make it into a diary but which make life, life.